


Don’t you ever do that again!

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Series: Spreading Positivity 2020 [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cars, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Domestic Fluff, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Fast Cars, M/M, Sentimental, Sentimental Derek Hale, So is the Camaro, Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:48:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23321206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: He’d never felt so anxious in his life, and it felt like every second that passed was anhour. He needed this torture to beoveralready! He was literally going to hyperventilate in a minute.Did Werewolves hyperventilate? Derek didn’t think he ever had before, but his boyfriend was human and had had many panic attacks over the years, so he knew what theylookedlike, if nothing else. Even if hecouldn’thyperventilate, he felt like he had a pretty good grasp on what it entailed.It was taking too long. Why was it taking so long? It shouldn’t be taking this long, right? Or was this normal. He had no idea. It had been so long, which explained why his boyfriend—traitorous, hateful,evilboyfriend!—had done this.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Spreading Positivity 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667605
Comments: 26
Kudos: 810





	Don’t you ever do that again!

Derek felt like he was pacing a groove right into the floor with the constant back and forth across the loft. He was trying to stay in front of the large floor to ceiling windows so that he could see out into the front part of the building, waiting. 

He’d never felt so anxious in his life, and it felt like every second that passed was an _hour_. He needed this torture to be _over_ already! He was literally going to hyperventilate in a minute.

Did Werewolves hyperventilate? Derek didn’t think he ever had before, but his boyfriend was human and had had many panic attacks over the years, so he knew what they _looked_ like, if nothing else. Even if he _couldn’t_ hyperventilate, he felt like he had a pretty good grasp on what it entailed. 

It was taking too long. Why was it taking so long? It shouldn’t be taking this long, right? Or was this normal. He had no idea. It had been so long, which explained why his boyfriend—traitorous, hateful, _evil_ boyfriend!—had done this.

Behind his back. _Behind his **back**!_

Okay, to be fair, he knew it was needed, and he knew Stiles had only done it because Derek was never going to, _but still_! The reason he’d never done it was because of the anxiety. What if someone said this was the end? Derek wouldn’t know how to handle that! 

Really, maybe it was better that Stiles had gone. Stiles could be objective about it, and Derek knew he’d fight for him. After all, Stiles was good at fighting. Verbally, anyway.

Though physically, too. He could hold his own. He was a talented fighter, considering he was human. Honestly, Derek felt like his mom would be proud to know his mate was Stiles. Strong, resilient, smart, determined, loyal. Stiles was the best, really. 

_Except right now!_

Derek paused half-way across his new groove in the floor when he heard a familiar sound. He waited just long enough to confirm it was Stiles, and then bolted for the door, throwing it open and rushing down the stairs. He made it out of the building at least thirty seconds before Stiles finally rounded the corner. 

He watched as his boyfriend eased to a stop in the vehicle’s usual parking spot and then rushed to the driver’s side door, wrenching it open before Stiles had even finished pulling the key from the ignition. 

“Don’t you ever do that again!” Derek snarled, holding his hand out insistently. 

Stiles just rolled his eyes and obediently dropped the keys to the Camaro into Derek’s waiting palm, forcing Derek back a step so he could exit the sleek black car, slamming the door behind him.

“Derek, it needed a check-up. I get it, all right? I understand how much this car means to you, but it was making a weird clunking noise and if you didn’t get that checked out, you might’ve blown the engine and then you’d have been screwed.”

Derek honestly _wanted_ to be mad, and he wanted to tell Stiles that he _didn’t_ understand, but he knew he couldn’t. Because out of everyone, Stiles was quite literally the _only_ person who could understand. 

Stiles’ Jeep meant the world to him. It used to belong to his mother. It was falling apart, and cost more than it was worth to fix every time it broke down, and was quite literally being held together with duct tape and love. 

Stiles knew better than anyone how much the Camaro meant to Derek. That it was the last piece of Laura that he had, and that the car absolutely could _not_ fall apart on him or else _he_ would fall apart. 

So if anyone knew the importance of keeping it in tip-top shape, it was Stiles. It didn’t stop Derek from panicking though. 

When he’d woken up to his boyfriend gone, he hadn’t thought anything of it until he’d noticed the note on the cabinet by the entrance where the keys used to be. All it said was the Camaro needed to be serviced and he’d have it back soon. 

Derek had tried calling Stiles, but his phone went straight to voicemail. He’d probably accurately anticipated the panicked calls and had preemptively turned off his phone. And so Derek had spent _three hours_ pacing a groove into the floor, because he hadn’t known what else to do. 

And really, Stiles was right. Which made sense, he often was, much as Derek hated admitting it. The Camaro _had_ been making a weird sound lately, and getting it checked out sooner rather than later could mean the difference between it being a pile of junk and still functional. After all, Stiles was a master at knowing when things needed to be checked out, considering his Jeep. 

His Jeep itself was a hunk of junk and still running, so if anyone should be trusted with the Camaro, it was Stiles. He’d kept his Jeep in shape all these years, and that beast was _way_ older than the Camaro. Stiles would’ve taken it to the shop, figured out what the problem was, and gotten it fixed. 

He probably knew all the mechanics by name. They probably saw him once a month and had long ago stopped telling him that the Jeep had to go. Seeing him roll up in a Camaro had probably given them all heart attacks, thinking he’d actually given up Roscoe. To find out Stiles was just coming to get _another_ never-gonna-let-this-car-die vehicle serviced had probably made the guys weep in their desire to find a new profession. 

Derek just stood staring at the Camaro, keys clenched in one hand while Stiles stood in front of him, hands shoved into the depths of his pockets. He didn’t look upset by Derek’s immediate reaction upon his return, and it made him wonder if maybe Stiles himself had reacted this way in the past. Maybe the sheriff had done to Stiles what Stiles himself had just done to Derek. 

His father knew how much the Jeep meant to him, and he’d been trying to teach him that the only way it was going to continue to run was to take care of it, and that meant taking it in to be serviced. 

Derek hadn’t taken the Camaro in since he’d come back to Beacon Hills, and considering he’d been eighteen back then and was now twenty-seven, that was a long time to not get the car serviced. 

Moving forward, Derek placed one hand on the roof of the car, grit his teeth, and said, “Well?”

“Well what?” Stiles asked, sounding confused. 

Derek had to find his patience. The car was _sacred_! “Is it okay?”

“Oh yeah, it’s fine. There was just a part that was a little loose, hence the rattling, but they fixed it back up and did a full service. Rotated your tires, changed the oil, checked your brakes, all that stuff. Said it’s in great shape.” 

Derek let out a slow breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding when Stiles confirmed the car was okay. He couldn’t imagine the anxiety Stiles felt every time he brought the Jeep in for a check-up, because just having the Camaro out of sight for a few hours had almost had him at meltdown level, and he _knew_ his car was in better shape. 

There was no duct tape holding parts together, at any rate. Not yet. At least if he ever got to that stage, he had an expert duct-taper permanently attached to him. 

And he _would_ be permanently attached to him, because Derek wasn’t letting Stiles out of this relationship without a fight. He was everything Derek never knew he wanted, or needed. 

Turning to his boyfriend, Derek wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer, kissing his temple. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Sorry I yelled at you.” 

“Are you kidding?” Stiles snorted. “That wasn’t a yell. It was barely a raised voice. I remember when we weren’t friends, now _that_ was some impressive yelling.” 

“We were never _not_ friends,” Derek argued. “You were frustratingly persistent.” 

“And you’re very grateful for my persistence, because otherwise you wouldn’t have a bomb-ass boyfriend.” Stiles kissed his lips lightly and pulled away. “Now come on, let’s feed you. I know you probably wore a groove into the floor with your pacing and didn’t eat once you realized your precious baby was gone. I don’t wanna get stuck with a grumpywolf, you’re grumpy enough as it is.” 

Derek just smiled while following Stiles, unwilling to admit that he was one-hundred percent right. Stiles held enough power over him as it was, no need to encourage him. 

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis


End file.
